Collision
by WalkThruTheFire
Summary: Should feelings always be revealed? Should common sense triumph over imagination? AU, Romy, Oneshot.


**Collision**

_It's all in how you mix the two,_

_And it starts just where the light exists._

_It's a feeling that you cannot miss,_

_And it burns a hole through everyone that feels it._

_**- Blue and Yellow**_

xxx

Ah smooth the front of my dress gingerly, my fingertips tingling with the feel of the soft material. It had looked good in the store window, looked even better when Ah had tried it on. Admittedly, it was a concession to my vanity, but hell, it was a gorgeous outfit. A classy concoction of emerald silk with short sleeves and a wide neck, it halted at just above my knees, it brought out my pale skin and it made my green eyes look even more dramatic.

Not that Ah was wearing it to be noticed…me? Nope.

_Patrol, you moron,_ Ah tell myself sternly. Ah had avoided the $8 ticket price by being a member of the Student Council, but the dip that came with that perk was to patrol the area outside the dance hall for an entire hour to prevent our more…well, let's just say sexually _uninhibited_ friends from screwing up the school's image (even more).

Ah finish circling the field and stride across the basketball court, my bare feet being grazed by the tarmac. Ah had ditched my heels earlier to dance with Kitty and the rest of the group, and decided Ah could risk the possible scratches for foot freedom. (There's nothing like dancing like crazy in a circle with a large group of people, is there?). Ah step into the dimly lit disco, quickly pinpointing my relief and making my way over to him.

"Kurt, buddy, you're up."

Kurt's white teeth glint. "You're a little early, Marie, but I think I'll do you a favor zis time."

Ah raise an eyebrow. Kurt is notoriously lazy and shirks responsibility whenever he can get away with it, which is probably why our Student Body President, Jean, had made him come up with the duty rosters and timetables. If he's taking his shift even five minutes sooner, there has to be a really, really good reason.

"And why precisely are ya aiding me thus, senator?"

His smile widens at my ostentatious language.

"Because, senator, someone was looking for you to ask for a dance just a little earlier," he says with the air of one cradling a large bombshell. "And he looked mighty upset when I said you vere busy."

My head shoots up and Ah glance around quickly. "Kurt. Who was it?"

Kurt just pats me on the back and turns to leave.

"Kurt!"

"Think of zis as a crash course in politics, senator," he smirks, dark face invisible in the muted light.

Ah mutter and turn, trying to hide the fond smile on my face. Kurt and Ah have known each other for quite a while now, ever since the first Council meeting. We'd petitioned for the name to be changed to Senate because we thought 'senator' sounded cooler than 'councilor'. We'd failed, but as a protest we'd called every representative 'senator'. We got over the disappointment soon, but the use of the word 'senator' had stuck. And Ah just said 'senator' wayyyy too many times.

However, Ah'm digressing.

Ah lean against a wall and scan the crowd, hoping against hope, but with a wild undercurrent of trepidation pulling at me.

Okay, let me take you to the department of back story. The reason for my rather dramatic feelings of hope? A guy. Isn't it always? I've fallen, and fallen hard. And we're…well, we're very close. But we never talk. I mean, in person, we communicate, but we never _talk_. Not when people are around. However, with the wonders of modern technology, there are other ways for us to connect. And I think he knows how Ah feel about him. And there's _no effing way_ he'd reciprocate. Kitty is always exhorting me to think positive, her and Jean. And, well, Ah guess Ah can't get rid of that sneaky little bastard Hope, who is at this very moment making my palms sweaty. But Ah try to suppress Hope. It just wouldn't work out. I mean, it's _me_. I'm not this whiny little crybaby like his last girlfriend, nor am I some sort of slut like his frequent flings. Ah'm not touchy-feely; Ah'm the nastiest girl this school has ever seen. Ah take crap from no-one. Plus, completely different social circles! Major no-no.

Ah know…and don't ask me how…but Ah know that if we got together, break-up would be imminent. This way is safer. Friends last longer than girlfriends. Right? And Ah don't want to lose this friendship for _anything_. He's so wonderful though, as cliché as that sounds. He's sweet, funny, carin', loyal, thoughtful, kind, totally gorgeous sweetheart, maybe a little rough around the edges…but that's only to very few people. Otherwise, he's _him_. The wild guy. The partying guy. The guy who plays with hearts but never lets anyone lay a finger on his own.

Oh my God. There he is. Remy LeBeau. Looking absolutely totally incredibly utterly amazingly gorgeous in jeans and a silky dark blue shirt. He's getting a drink, and he runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. Oh. My. God. He's turning. He's sees me. Ohmygosh, Ah probably look completely hideous and sweaty. Ah take a deep breath. _Play it cool._

Ah toss off a vague smile; and turn away, pretending to regard another section of the packed dance floor. Yikes. He's coming over here.

xxx

Marie turned her head, flipping her dark hair over her shoulders. Remy sidled over, and gave her his trademark billion-dollar smile, holding out a red can.

"Remy figured y'd need a drink after y' shift, _chère_," he said, looking earnest, his thick Cajun accent sending a shiver through her.

"Ah think Ah love you," Marie declared as she took the can from him. "Vanilla Coke, aww." She popped the tab and took a swig. Remy rolled his eyes.

"Now people are gonna blame Remy when y' start bouncin' off de walls."

"Hey now Swamp Rat, Ah don't _bounce_. Ah, uh…"

"Bounce."

"Precisely." She passed the can back and he took a sip.

"So where's Belle?" Marie teased in a knowing voice, referring to Remy's freshman stalker.

"She around," Remy said smugly, before rolling his eyes.

Marie broke into giggles and reached for the can, frowning when he took another swig. "Are ya gonna strip again?" she inquired innocently, smirking as he choked on the carbonated black liquid.

"Okay, Remy did not STRIP. He took off 'is frickin' shirt. He was drunk. Remy knows you wanna see him like dat, but _please_, Marie, control y'rself."

Marie reached for the can, and pouted when he held it above her head. "Remyyyyyy," she jumped and he turned, holding it further away. "You're mean." She pouted, using a little-baby voice.

Remy chuckled and passed her the can. "Remy was lookin' f'r y' earlier,"

Marie's eyes widened. "Yeah?" her would-be casual voice came out high and a little squeaky. She covered it by taking a quick drink of Vanilla Coke.

"He wanted t' ask f'r a dance." Remy was oddly contained, his voice less exuberant than earlier.

"Funny," Marie rolled her eyes. _Keep up the façade. We're not _like_ that. Not in public._

"Serious, _chère_." He looked it too, dark eyes earnest, face hopeful. Marie cursed. "Remy, c'mon." She tried to play it off with a joke. "Have ya _seen_ me dance?"

For a second, so quickly she almost didn't see it, Remy looked hurt. Then he, too, covered it up with humor. "You're jus' embarrassed by Remy," he teased. _Shit. That didn't sound bitter at all, Remy._

Marie looked up suddenly, her eyes uncertain. "Yeah. Totally humiliated." She set down the can and gave a strained smile. "A think Ah'll go check on Kurt. His shift finished ages ago." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode briskly away.

Remy gazed after her, cursing himself. _Why de hell is it so goddamn hard bein' around her? Talkin' t' her? Why can't we jus' be serious f'r once? When I ask her t' dance, she declines. But when it comes t' our un-relationship, de femme dances around de facts like Fred Astaire._

It was always like this. She would not take him seriously. He would not take her lightly.

Remy shook his head. He was utterly crazy about her. He knew…he _knew_ she felt the same. But she acted like she barely knew him when they were in public. The only give-away was when they defended each other, when they supported the other. Their secret meetings when they stayed back after school and snuck off to talk. The subtle in-jokes that they had to struggle to not laugh at. The thinly-veiled threats (mostly from her) and the quiet inflections in expression that communicated more than words. And these happened often, their social circles being utterly, utterly different. Remy was a jock, a bad boy, a player, the wild one. The 'select group of morons', as Marie put it. Marie, of course, was a disaffected artist. Literature, theater, history. Her friends were sarcastic and intelligent individuals; their music was emo and indie. They were the pariahs that could affiliate with any group they wanted, but chose not to.

Anger suddenly shot through Remy. _Whatever happens, 'M never goin' t' be good enough f'r her. She's de 'smart one', de one who doesn't _need_ anyone. How'm I s'posed to compete with dat? _He stalked off. _What's de point? Why should I make an effort, if the femme doesn't want t'? Doesn't she get dat whenever I accuse her of bein' embarrassed of me I'm serious? She doesn't. I'm the player with no feelin's. _

"Hey Remy!" a throaty voice called. Remy turned to see Belle sashaying up to him, smiling.

"How're things?" She spun to show off her dark micro-miniskirt and halter. Remy carefully controlled his expression. Belle harbored the illusion that the less she wore, the more attractive she was. She was sweet though. Friendly, thoughtful, not too bright. She wasn't Marie—

_But does dat matter?_ Remy suddenly asked, angry at himself. _Belle's _here_ and she don't treat me like I'm not worth anyt'ing._

"Wanna dance?" he suddenly blurted, without thinking. Belle smirked, as though she had expected this, and pressed herself close to Remy.

xxx

Marie choked. _No frickin' way._

She'd been making her way to the field, entertaining the notion of stargazing, but mostly to sort out her conflicting feelings. Then she remembered she'd left her drink back in the hall, and was still extremely thirsty. And what should she see but Remy and the bimbo of the century dancing barely three damned feet away? She clutched the cool tin harder, feeling the malleable metal crunch under her fingers. Without realizing, she lifted her arm and tossed the can as hard as she could.

She'd always had good aim.

A spray of dark liquid shot out of the can high into the air before obeying the pull of gravity and returning to earth, soaking Remy thoroughly in the process. The can followed seconds later, ricocheting off Remy's arm and landing near her feet.

He turned.

She ran, but not before he had seen the look on her face. His first savage thought was, _good._ There was a vindictive pleasure he found in making her feel the way he had hundreds of times. Making her feel … substandard. Then he shook his head.

"Belle, 'M sorry. I've gotta go. Dis… dis was a huge mistake, 'M sorry."

Despite everything, he wouldn't … _couldn't_ hurt her.

xxx

Remy caught up with Marie on the field, wincing as he saw the look on her face. A single tear streamed down her cheek as she stood, glaring at him furiously.

_She's never cried in front of me before. _Remy noted miserably, guilt surging in him. _Espèce .Crétin._ He controlled the urge to go and just pull her into his arms and make everything all right.

"Marie, I'm--"

"Save it, Remy." Marie cursed inwardly. _So much for playing it cool._

"Ah don' know what happened in there. Ah just … Ah've been under a lot of pressure lately, okay? Chalk it up to stress, and let's just leave it at that." She brushed the teardrop away fiercely.

Remy's jaw dropped. Was she _still_ in denial? "Look, I admit dat I shouldn't have danced wit' Belle, it was wrong an' stupid an' just … dumb."

"'Danced with' is kind of a loose term. Ah would say 'mated with' would be nearer the truth."

_Ouch. _His _chère_ still had claws.

He acknowledged the comment with a guilty look, which was quickly replaced with a more indignant one. "Why can't y' just admit y're jealous?" Without thinking, Remy took a step closer to her. "Why can't y' jus' admit y' have feelin's f'r Remy?"

Marie choked and spluttered, her eyes widening. _Intelligent comment, reclaim dignity._

"Have ya always been this incredibly egotistical?"

Remy let out a frustrated breath. "Marie, cut de crap. It's a simple yes or no question, do y' or do y' not have feelin's for me? 'Cause, I t'ink I know de answer, but it seems all y' wan' is t' prove me wrong.

'M so crazy about y'. Do y' not see that? You make me laugh; you cheer me up when I feel like shit. You understand me, you don' judge me." He was talking faster now, was slightly incoherent, listing details. His eyes never left hers, his gaze penetrating. He was showing her his soul. "Y' … y' _know_ me. Better dan anyone ever has or ever will. Whenever I t'ink about you, my heart beats faster. I don' care dat you think 'M an idiot, 'M jus' glad y' still care 'bout me. I don' care dat y' pretend I don' matter t' y', I'm jus' happy t' be close t' y' on any terms." He trailed off, and then caught sight of Marie. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and her breath was catching. He moved instinctively closer.

"Ah'm sorry, Ah'm sorry, Ah'm so sorry," she kept breathing

Remy looked at her, seeing the hurt, the indecision, the conflict in her eyes, and suddenly he thought he understood.

"Marie … I didn't mean t' hurt y'. I nev'r wanted t'."

She nodded, and then shook her head, pressing her face into the dark fabric of his shirt. "Ya won't be able to help it," she murmured, drawing a shaky breath.

"Don' cry, _sil te plait._" he pleaded. "Y' can scream at me all y' wan', jus' don't cry." She took a deep breath and leaned her head on his chest. "Marie?"

"Yeah." She leaned away, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and regarded him gravely. She looked very wise just then, her black eyes serious and solemn. He could see himself reflected in them, and once again marveled at how beautiful she was, and how oblivious she was to this fact. Auburn hair with those distinctive silver streaks. Eyes like emeralds, like cat's eyes. Full red lips. Pale, camellia-petal skin, and a dazzling smile that just seemed to chase the clouds away. Although right now that smile was absent. _Damn._

He brushed a wayward strand of hair of her face, and studied her closely. She gave a watery smile.

"God, Remy, ya must think Ah'm psychotic."

"I always have," he teased, before turning serious. "I'm sorry I danced wit' Belle."

"Ah know. Ah forgive you." She flopped onto the grass, joined shortly by Remy. Presently, she spoke.

"Remy … everything ya said …" Marie trailed off, biting her lip.

"I meant ev'ry word."

She looked unconvinced.

"God, Marie, what does it take t' prove t' y' how I feel? Y' want me t' say it?" he asked in sudden frustration, tired of the banter and games.

"Okay den, I'll say it. I _love_ you. I love y'r eyes. I love y'r smile. I love y'r kindness and y'r stupid stripy hair when you pin it up with chopsticks and y'r cackling laugh. I love how scarily smart y' are, how y' know everyt'ing dat I'm about. I love how y' walk. I love how y're so frickin' passionate 'bout everyt'ing y' do. I even love de way y' insult me. Dere, I said it. Goddamnit, Marie, what more d'you want fr'm me?"

Marie looked at him, her face a canvas on which emotions danced and battled for dominance. Remy didn't dare take his eyes off her, daring to hope that the denial had come to an end. He felt, rather than saw, her indecision, and opened his mouth once more.

"I see y'. I know y', every part of y'. And y're one hell of a girl. You're de one."

Marie's voice and cool demeanor cracked. "What if Ah don't want to _be_ the one?"

Remy shrugged. "I don' wanna be dis athletic n' good-lookin'. We all have our crosses t' bear."

Marie looked at him in surprise, and then to his very great shock and joy, began laughing.

"That's what Ah love about ya Remy. Your sense of humor."

"Is dat all?" Remy asked, unable to keep the desire from his voice.

Marie looked somber. "This conversation … how we feel and what we're gonna do about it all. We have to have it now, don't we?"

Remy looked at her, hope rising uncontrollably.

"It's not going to work Remy. Sooner or later, you'll get bored of me. That's why Ah never did—never _said_ anything. Friends are forever, girlfriends not always so. And Ah couldn't stand not being with ya, being close to ya. Ya ever wondered why Ah always speed up whenever you come near me, why Ah avoid you or act like Ah don't know ya when we're out with people? Because Ah'm terrified that ya won't need or like or want me as much as them. Because Ah'm scared that Ah'm not as much to ya as they are. Ah'm scared Ah'll look into your eyes and see indifference. What Ah have … _had_ with you … that was safe. This … this is scary. Falling for ya. It's scary."

"Fallin' f'r me." His voice rose slightly at the end, almost a question.

"Did Ah stutter?" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "Or you just like messin' with me? How could Ah not fall? You're funny, you're sweet, and you put up with all my shit. Ya can handle me on my bad days and are with me on my good ones. You're always there when Ah need you. Ya understand me. You're incredibly gorgeous," she added, with a glimmer of the old, smartass Marie in her eyes. "And that's why we would never work out."

Remy looked confused.

"Because we're so different," she clarified. "Not just the stupid clique shit, but…you're thoughtful, Ah'm a bitch. You're down-to-earth, Ah'm an intellectual snob. It's just…you're--"

"If y' say 'too good f'r me', I will tickle you till y' die." Remy threatened, looking happy yet lost all at once. "Why you gotta make it harder dan it needs t' be? Ain't no guarantees, Marie. Doesn' mean y' shouldn't take a chance anyway."

Marie rested her head on his shoulder. "You're right."

"Of course 'M right," he said haughtily, shifting slightly, presumably to accommodate for his overlarge ego. "'M always right."

Marie rolled her eyes.

"Bite me," she said, then dropped her head back onto his shoulder, and turned her face skywards.

"Is dat an insult or a request?" Remy asked. Casually, he shifted his leg so that it just barely brushed hers. He could feel her tense up, then deliberately relax.

"Ah've … never felt about someone the way Ah feel 'bout you," she confessed, her voice quiet yet clear. "Since that _stupid_ Sunday night when Ah first talked to ya, Ah've been happy every minute of every day. You're kind to me, and ya take care of me and ya always think of me first. Ya … God, Ah don't know how to say it. Ah hated it at first. Ah wanted to never speak to you again. Ah was falling faster and harder than Ah'd ever care to admit, and Ah was so … unsure. About everything. Ah've never really cared for someone so much that … oh, shit." Marie looked down sheepishly.

Remy brushed his lips against her cheek and buried his face in her soft hair.

"Y're the first thing Ah think about when Ah wake up, and the last thing that runs through my mind before Ah sleep."

Remy's face was indescribably alight, but a mischievous twinkle was in his eyes.

"Are these kinky thoughts, _chère_?" he asked, his ecstatic voice belying his innuendo. Marie swiped his arm, more of a violent caress.

"Ah'm saying this badly."

"Y're sayin' it perfectly."

Marie rolled her eyes, and then a thought struck her. She glanced at Remy.

"Ah think Ah could put it into clearer terms though."

"Oh, really? Like--" Remy was cut off as she pulled him in for a soul-searing kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, causing the hairs there to stand on end and making him shiver.

_All dose lines dat people use t' describe kisses, like they're fallin', or flyin'? Dey're true, and dey're happenin' to me._ Remy tried to quell the racing of his heart, then gave up and instead concentrated his energies on kissing Marie back.

When they finally broke apart, they said nothing but gazed into the other's eyes for what seemed an eternity. Marie searched his face to gauge his thoughts, wondering just how exactly she could be so lucky. His face was a study in contrasts, planes and angles. The lines of Remy's face gave the impression of being strong and square. Strong, square jaw; square forehead; squared-off cheekbones. But when she looked harder and longer, she saw many unexpected subtle things. His eyes, large and circular, almost childlike with those long eyelashes. Faint, fanning creases at the corners, those were laugh-lines. His mouth, surprisingly full and curvaceous. You wouldn't expect such a sensitive mouth on so large and strong a person.

"Is this real?" Marie broke the silence, almost scared of what she'd do if she didn't.

"D'y' want it t' be? D'y' feel like I do whenever I see y'?"

She kissed him once more, reveling in the feel of his lips on hers. He pulled away, raining down kisses over her collarbone, before finding her lips once more. His heart was beating so fast against hers, and a shiver ran through her. Then his soft kisses turned into slow shivery ones and then into white-hot ones, like the heart of a star. She was trembling, falling and soaring at the same time. The electricity they'd always felt when together was flowing into her, shocking her nerve endings sweetly. Everywhere he touched she felt fire and ice. He was kissing her as tenderly as twilight, tiny soft kisses, and long kisses that turned wild. And she was kissing him back, her arms around her neck, hands tangled in his dark hair.

"Ah love ya," Marie whispered. There was music in her voice and the words settled like filigreed snowflakes around Remy, wrapping him in otherworldliness.

"I love y' too."

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her briefly on the forehead. They sat like that for a while, just absorbing the sounds of the other breathing, the scent of the other. Eventually, he spoke.

"C'mon," Remy began. "We ain't sittin' out here f'rever." He ran his hands lightly over her arms one last time.

Marie looked up at him with shining eyes, kissed-red lips forming words.

"Remy …" she trailed off, and then looked up at him. "Will you dance with me?"

Remy gazed at her and smiled. It seemed fitting, a way for this crazy tango between them to end full circle. He pulled his phone and pressed a few buttons. He knew the perfect song for occasion: It had been a favorite song of the both of them for months now. Marie had heard it quite by accident on the radio, and promptly forced him to download it. Then _he_ had fallen in love with it.

Just like he had fallen in love with Marie. Everything about her was … addictive.

A soft guitar solo began and he pulled her to her feet, holding her close to him.

_**The dawn is breaking**_

_**A light shining through**_

_**You're barely waking**_

_**And I'm tangled up in you**_

Marie leaned her head on his shoulder, tiny chills still running through her. A tiny sigh escaped her, and she winced inwardly as she remembered all the harsh words she'd ever thrown his way. _Ya can't erase the past. Ya can't even change it. But sometimes life offers ya the opportunity to put it right._

For now, all she wanted was this.

_**I'm open, you're closed**_

_**Where I follow, you'll go**_

_**I worry I won't see your face**_

_**Light up again**_

He held her carefully, she was so fragile. She acted tough, but the truth was that she wasn't as adamantine as she pretended. She had her insecurities, she had her failings. And he saw them, and he accepted them, and he loved her all the more for them.

_**Even the best fall down sometimes**_

_**Even the wrong words seem to rhyme**_

_**Out of the doubt that fills my mind**_

_**I somehow find**_

_**You and I collide**_

_Ah didn't want to lose this friendship for anything,_ Marie remembered. She had thought that not too long ago. _Ah guess that … if ya don't want it bad enough to risk losing it—ya don't want it bad enough. Ah wanted it bad enough._

_**I'm quiet, you know**_

_**You make a first impression**_

_**I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind**_

'To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead'. Remy had heard this many months ago, when Marie was helping him study for a World Literature exam. Marie feared love, she always had. She'd pushed him away, trying to put him off. She was scared. And so she ran. But there's nothing Remy LeBeau couldn't resist like a chase.

_**Even the best fall down sometimes**_

_**Even the stars refuse to shine**_

_**Out of the back you fall in time**_

_**You somehow find**_

_**You and I collide**_

She was brilliant. She was. No way to deny it … no ego, no modesty. She was highly intelligent. Remy wasn't. Remy thought on his feet, he was a mover, not a thinker. But wasn't love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence?

_**Don't stop here**_

_**I've lost my place**_

_**I'm close behind**_

_We're so different,_ Remy realized, breathing in the scent of gardenias and rain that always lingered around Marie. Maybe she's right. Maybe it is crazy. There was always some madness in love, wasn't there? But there was also always some reason in madness.

_**Even the best fall down sometimes**_

_**Even the wrong words seem to rhyme**_

_**Out of the doubt that fills your mind**_

_**You finally find**_

_**You and I collide**_

In her heart of her hearts, Marie felt a gnawing doubt. _Are we right for each other? We're so different._

And then she realized. In a moment that she could only describe as 'infinite', with the music softly playing and Remy so close to her, she understood: Love wasn't a decision. It was a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be _so_ much simpler, but much less magical.

_**You finally find**_

_**You and I collide**_

_**You finally find**_

_**You and I collide…**_

_People die … so love them every day_

_Beauty fades … so look before it's gone_

_Love changes … but not the love you give_

_And if you love, you'll never be alone._

_-- Lisa-Jane Smith_

Works Cited:

Witchlight, by L.J. Smith

Collide, by Howie Day

Blue and Yellow, by The Used

Girls in Pants, by Ann Brashares


End file.
